Rise, O Earth! Rise, O Earth, and gird your sword, O man. There will be no peace between you and Heaven; the earth is becoming the abode of darkness and death, and the Prince of Darkness ascends to his throne upon it--from now on and forever. I am going to you, David. I will hurl your sad life towards the proud heaven like a stone from a sling--and the foundations of the high heavens will tremble. My slave, David! With your lips I will proclaim the truth about the fate of man. _He turns to the Guardian of the Entrances._ And you!... _He becomes silent, bashfully, confused by the Silence. He stretches himself lazily, as from tediousness, and mutters in a voice loud enough to be heard by the Guardian of the Entrances._ But am I not roaming about, because I have nothing to do? I have been here, and now I shall go there. Are there not plenty of roads for the gay Anathema, who is fond of healthy laughter and a carefree jest? Six.... That means that I bring to David a fortune which he does not expect.... Eight.... That means that David Leizer is healing the sick and reviving the dead. Twenty.... Correct! That means ... That means that David and I come to express our gratitude. David Leizer, the great, the powerful, the immortal David Leizer and I.... I am going. _Anathema departs._ _Silence. The rocks are silent; the mute Gates, pressing the earth with their enormous weight, are silent; the Guardian, petrified, is silent._ _Silence. But did not Anathema's footsteps awaken an alarming, resounding echo? One, two--some heavy steps are heard coming. It is like one footstep, but many people are coming; they are silent, but the silence is already quivering. A momentary confusion of sounds, of helplessness and tremulous outbursts, and suddenly the silence breaks out in high yellow flames of fire: somewhere below, in the invisible distance, on earth, long trumpets, carried by hands uplifted high, are blaring in rebellious, brasslike tones,--their defiant cry of revolt is turned both to earth and to Heaven._ _One, two,--now it is clear that a crowd is moving; its monstrous voice, its blended and separate sobs, its noisy and stormy speech is heard; and below, in the labyrinth from broken and dark passages, the first distinct sound rings out: "Da-a-vid!" It grows more distinct, rises higher, and now it soars overhead_-_on the wings of this brass fanfare, above the heavy stamping of the marching feet._ _"Da-a-vid! Da-a-a-vid! Da-a-a-vid!"_ _The sounds blend harmoniously. They become the song of millions of people. The trumpets are blaring, exhausted; they call hoarsely with their brass voices--_